


Where the Stars Shone

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bromance, Fluff, M/M, Romance, mentions of illness, mild use of language, more tags as story goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Iwa-chan! See these stars?" Iwaizumi stared at the box of glow-in-the-dark plastic in Oikawa's pudgy hands and nodded meekly, unsure of what other response to give to his overexcited best friend. Oikawa merely beamed, shoving the box into Iwaizumi's small fingers, bright eyes sparkling like the moon above. "Let's make our own constellations, just like the ones we saw tonight."</p><p>--- “Love is only one fine star away.” (Stevie Nicks)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one; chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> So after months of trying to write this, I finally did it. The first chapter has finally been written. Let's see how this turn out.
> 
> The following plot is a collaboration between my sister and I: she came up with the big picture, I discovered the details and paint them. So if you ever feel like squeezing someone because of the fluff and stuff, please thank my sister for inciting this whole project to begin with c: [Though let's be honest; the one who comes up with the scenes is the bigger genius here (; ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after months of trying to write this, I finally did it. The first chapter has finally been written. Let's see how this turn out.
> 
> The following plot is a collaboration between my sister and I: she came up with the big picture, I discovered the details and paint them. So if you ever feel like squeezing someone because of the fluff and stuff, please thank my sister for inciting this whole project to begin with c: [Though let's be honest; the one who comes up with the scenes is the bigger genius here (; ]

  
**_part one;_**  
**one**

 

_“Iwa-_ chan _, hurry up!”_

_The smaller boy growled at the brunet up above, hating how his slightly longer limbs allowed him to scale the tree faster. He reached for the branch above him, his fingers barely grazing the bark, and huffed imperceptibly as he tried to keep up with his best friend. “Oi, slow down, Oikawa. I’m not as fast a climber as you, you know.”_

_Oikawa laughed, teasing him about something along the lines of drinking more milk and growing, and threw his legs over the longest, thickest branch on the tree, his smile practically shining like a million suns. “Iwa-chan, hurry! You can see the entire city from up here!”_

_With one last stretch, Iwaizumi finally managed to grab his branch, pulling himself higher as he looked up at where Oikawa was; somehow, the boy seemed so out of reach. He was shining, chasing all the evanescent shadows that lurked around him, a diamond in the middle of broken dust. Lingering there a while, he admired the glitter in his best friend’s eyes, a warmth burning inside of him as he suddenly yearned to see the sparkle in those hazel orbs a billion times more. Gulping, he climbed again, finally sitting next to the brunet, their knees grazing in silk touch._

_“I honestly hate you for this,” Iwaizumi mumbled, and Oikawa ignored him, grabbing his head instead and tilting it upwards to look at the sky. The stars glittered amongst the midnight black, constellations forming some unwritten future for the both of them. His eyes widened, all exhaustion fleeing his small body._

_“It’s great, isn’t it?” Oikawa whispered, as though he was afraid to break the magic that surrounded them. “I wish I could stay here forever.”_

 

Iwaizumi woke up with a start, the blaring of his alarm clock breaking the memory he had repeatedly dreamed of for the past two weeks. He groaned, feeling a migraine coming along; the pain had only gotten worse, and his all-nighters definitely weren’t numbing the violent throbbing. He pushed the covers off his bed, quickly making his way to the desk and pushing aside the rumpled pieces of paper to find a small container of pills. Taking a table in his hand, he quickly swallowed it whole, gulping down the rest of the coffee from last night’s late study session with it.

He definitely needed a cold shower.

Fifteen minutes later he was checking the clock for what seemed like the millionth time that morning, grunting in anger when he realized the asshole was _forty-three minutes late_. He sighed helplessly, leaning back against the gates that led to Oikawa’s house. Honestly, the guy was completely useless.

It had been this way for years, and he should’ve been used to it by now; Oikawa was more like a seven-year-old than he was seventeen. The boy held empty promises and broken vows that Iwaizumi probably should’ve abandoned all trust in him and his words, but each time Oikawa ended a sentence with, “I promise,” Iwaizumi found himself keeling over with faith. Which was how he got to today’s predicament.

Per usual, Oikawa dropped by the night before, eagerly anticipating the gruesome days and tormentous drills of the summer training camp ahead. Iwaizumi couldn’t really bother for the captain’s excited chatter; it was the same conversation every year, and frankly, he was tired of it. All he could do was humor the setter and hum periodically, despite the two of them knowing he wasn’t paying much attention to the brunet’s words. But when Oikawa chirped, “Hey, Iwa- _chan_ , we should head to the station together,” Iwaizumi knew some intervention was required.

So naturally, he said the firmest, most self-assured word he could think of: “No.”

“Aw, but Iwa- _chan_! We’ve walked to the station together every year,” Oikawa protested, his voice several octaves higher. Iwaizumi groaned. _Not this again_.

“Like hell I’m going with you. Go by yourself.” He turned around to return to the mountain of studying he had to get done, when suddenly the brunet’s face appeared in his line of vision, bottom lip stuck out in an irresistible pout, frown deepening in entreating desperation. But Iwaizumi was not prone to this look, and he merely shoved Oikawa’s face away rather harshly, pushing him down to the floor below.

“I said _no_.”

“Please, Iwa- _chan_!” Oikawa whined once more. “I won’t be late again!”

“Sure, you aren’t—”

“ _I promise!_ ”

Iwaizumi paused, feeling his knees buckle at those two words. Damn Oikawa and his unbelievable control over his self-will. “ _Fine_. But you better not be lying.”

But it had been fifty minutes now, and Oikawa was still nowhere in sight, and Iwaizumi was getting impatient, already fully tempted to simply walk away without the familiar bundle of hazel energy beside him. He sighed once more, shoving his hands into his pocket to pull out his phone, quickly texting the only other person who would understand his predicament.

 

 

_(06:51:23 AM) Iwaizumi Hajime: Assikawa’s taking so fucking long._   
_(06:52:08 AM) Hanamaki Takahiro: LOL I’ll tell Mizoguchi to murder him for you._

 

_Finally_ , the front door opened, and Oikawa jumped out in excitement, humming a stupid tone that made Iwaizumi’s blood curdle and his fists clench. The brunet even had the audacity to throw him one of his infamous peace signs in greeting, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, Iwa- _chan_! I overslept!”

“Dumbass,” he muttered, glaring coldly at the boy in front of him. “We’re going to miss our train, you fucking idiot.”

“I said I’m sorry! Plus, Mom was drilling me extra hard today, probably since we’ll be gone all week.” Oikawa sighed, pouting slightly. “I wish she’d give me a break.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Whatever. I’m leaving you.” He marched on ahead, shoving his hands down his pockets as pebbles clicked against his shoe, his eyes watching the dust that scattered at the sole of his sneakers with amusement. The setter’s shadow immediately took form beside him, and he couldn’t help but remember how much he envied those long limbs. He sighed, sneaking a glance at the brunet; was it his imagination, or had he grown _taller_?

Oikawa smiled, the melody he was humming still buzzing in the air. “Hey, you didn’t forget to bring your meds, did you?”

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi mumbled back, finally tearing his eyes off the young man. He felt his cheeks bloom roses, and he looked the opposite direction hurriedly. “I’m not as forgetful as you. Did you bring your brace?”

“Yep!” And he knew there was a smile on Oikawa’s face, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly too.

 

When they _did_ arrive at the station, they were an hour and thirteen minutes late, their designated train having departed fifteen minutes ago, leaving the volleyball team stranded until further notice. The look of pure hell on Mizoguchi’s face was enough to make Oikawa suggest that he run some suicides himself whilst they wait for the next train. Iwaizumi was fine with this— _until_ Mizoguchi barked at the ace to follow suit, and the green-eyed boy couldn’t help but glare furiously at Oikawa, who began running a little faster.

Thirty-four minutes later, everyone was finally seated, chromatic sceneries rolling by around them as the train shot through the prefecture. But Oikawa was left standing, and Iwaizumi merely stared at him, eyebrow cocked upwards as he held back the smirk that was slipping on his lips. Oikawa huffed in annoyance, glaring down at the ace.

“Iwa- _chan_! There are no more seats left!” he whined, and Iwaizumi snorted, sliding down his seat and closing his eyes. He tried blocking out the setter’s cries as much as possible; his legs were aching, and he was dead tired from having to wake up at five in the morning, and he really didn’t want to deal with his friend’s shit right now, as amusing as it was.

“Stand, then.”

“But my legs are killing me,” he groaned, gripping the bar above his head. “Makki, tell Iwa- _chan_ to be nice.”

Hanamaki smirked. “Why don’t you sit on his lap?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes shot open. “Oikawa, I swear if you do that—”

Oikawa sat on him anyway, stretching his limbs in front of him, sighing in content as he felt the muscles relax and loosen up. He turned around and smiled at the ace. “This isn’t so bad.”

It took everything in him to prevent the rising heat onto his cheeks. “Whatever,” he decided lamely, resting his head on the setter’s back as his head began to thud wildly again, and his stomach lurched as the train whizzed by the familiar scenery. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, using Oikawa’s back as a base to softly massage away the pain. He pursed his lips together; he really hated this.

“Yo, Iwaizumi.” He squeezed an eye open. Hanamaki frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine for camp?”

“I’ll manage,” he growled, pressing his head harder against the sculpted back he had memorised by now. “Besides, the doctor said it’s genetical, something about how my mom has migraines and it being natural that I’d have them too. Ibuprofen’ll soothe it eventually.”

Oikawa hummed, and for once, Iwaizumi didn’t mind; the vibrations on his spine relieved his headache, even if it was just a bit. “Did you take one this morning, Iwa- _chan_?”

“Of course I did.” He sighed. “But it was the two hundred milligram one.”

Oikawa leaned forward, letting Iwaizumi’s head slide down his back. “You’re supposed to take four of those,” he scolded, unzipping the duffel that lay by his feet, quickly whipping out the plastic container of 800 mg pills. Unfastening the lid, he spilled one onto his palm, handing it over to the ace along with a bottle of water. “Here. And get some sleep, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi took it without hesitation, and swallowed the thing whole. “Thanks.”

“Hm,” the setter hummed again, and Oikawa’s melody reverberating against his skull in a pacifying lullaby was the last thing he heard.

 

The sun was high in the sky by the time the train came to a halt, and the pulsating headache that echoed in his head long was gone by the time his feet landed safely on the platform outside. His neck ached from nodding off against Oikawa, and it didn’t help that his legs were cramping up from staying in one position for too long. He stretched, watching as the first years dismounted the caravan, then checked the watch on his wrist. A sigh escaped his lips. It was still a twenty-minute drive to the camp location.

“Alright, consider this your first exercise,” Irihata called, gathering everyone’s attention. “Carry your bags to the inn we’re staying at. All of you will be jogging there.”

A chorus of groans harmonised amongst the club, and Iwaizumi stared down at his legs. At least the jog would get rid of his sleepy limbs.

Mizoguchi frowned, grunting in annoyance. “If a small challenge like a jog is too tough for you, I suggest you climb aboard the next train and head home. Irihata- _san_ and I will meet you at the inn; try to get there before lunch.”

“What does he mean before lunch?” Matsukawa grumbled from Iwaizumi’s left as the two coaches made their way out of the station, his eyes glancing at the clock that hung on the wall. “It’s almost noon.”

“We were off schedule anyway,” the ace replied, glancing menacingly at Oikawa, “thanks to a certain asshole.”

Oikawa gaped at him. “Hey, that’s mean! I tried to be on time!”

“Sure you did.”

Hanamaki laughed, his eyes gleaming mischievously. With one quick motion he heaved his heavy bag onto his shoulders, nodding his head in the direction of the exit. “Here’s an idea. Last one to the inn has to prepare tonight’s dinner.”

A menacing grin stretched across Matsukawa’s face. “And he has to be shirtless,” the middle blocker suggested, to which Hanamaki enthusiastically nodded.

“ _And_ he must wear a frilly apron,” the strawberry-blond finalised, turning to Matsukawa who raised his hand up for a high five.

Oikawa raised a brow. “Where do you get a frilly apron anyway?”

The wing spiker merely grinned, dragging two fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. Matsukawa coolly leaned against the wall behind him, placing a leg over the other. “We have our ways.”

Oikawa grinned. “Well, in that case—”

Iwaizumi glared. “No way in hell,” he mumbled, hoisting the duffel onto his shoulder. “If you guys want to do that, go ahead.”

“Aw, is Iwa- _chan_ scared he’ll lose?” Oikawa teased, laughing as he gathered his own things. “Don’t worry, Iwa- _chan_ , if you lose, I’ll cook with you!”

“You’ll just burn the kitchen.”

Matsukawa snickered. “You could work as a team.”

Hanamaki beamed, smirking. “And then you could both wear frilly aprons, half-naked.”

Iwaizumi could feel his face heat up at the thought; despite having seen Oikawa shirtless countless times, he could only imagine the level of intimacy such a dare would require. “Absolutely not—”

“— _only_ if you and Mattsun compete together, Makki,” Oikawa bribed, winking at Iwaizumi, who looked as though he could murder the captain right then and there.

Hanamaki grinned. “On your marks, get set—GO!”

And they were off, the three third years disappearing from sight, leaving Iwaizumi standing there with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, staring at where his teammates had once stood. He groaned, slowly moving his dead legs into a steady run. “Fuck you, Tooru,” he muttered, and he swore he could hear the setter laugh from a mile away.

It took him a mere fifteen minutes to catch up with the brunet, who was leaning against a lamp post as fingers slowly rubbed circles on his knees. Iwaizumi frowned, jogging towards him, noticing how his sepia hair somehow fluttered in the gentle summer wind. He didn’t need to check his bag to know Oikawa wasn’t wearing his knee supporter.

“Dumbass,” he muttered, unzipping his friend’s duffel and pulling out the familiar white material that should’ve been wrapped around Oikawa’s right knee.

Oikawa laughed sheepishly. “I thought I could last longer than fifteen,” he said lamely, though his voice was strained, and Iwaizumi knew there were expectations behind those words that Oikawa wished he could fulfill. Iwaizumi pursed his lips, chewing on his bottom lip, quietly searching for the words to fill up the empty silence between them.

“You won’t be able to if you keep taking it off,” he decided, handing Oikawa back his bag. The setter merely sighed, tongue clicking softly in annoyance, which Iwaizumi knew was directed at no one but Oikawa himself. “Where are Matsukawa and Hanamaki?”

“They went ahead,” he heard his best friend sigh, staring absentmindedly down the road. “This is a race, after all, Iwa- _chan_.”

He kicked Oikawa’s leg softly. “Oi, let’s go, then.” Oikawa turned his gaze towards Iwaizumi, who shifted his onto the road ahead. “I don’t want to spend the evening stuck in the kitchen with you.”

Oikawa chuckled, following the ace, who had already begun a steady pace. “You really think my cooking’s that bad?”

“You almost poisoned Takeru once.”

“I did not! You cooked the eggs!”

“Yeah, because you burnt the water,” Iwaizumi corrected, rolling his eyes. “How the fuck do you even burn _water_?”

Oikawa smirked. “Maybe you should teach me to cook then, Iwa- _chan_.”

“Hell, no. I’ve tried that.” He quickened his pace.

The giraffe had no trouble catching up rapidly. “But that was when we were six!”

“ _Teen_ , Oikawa. That was literally two years ago.”

“Obviously I haven’t learned enough.”

“Obviously you can’t learn at all.”

“Iwa- _chan_ ’s so mean—”

Iwaizumi paused, his rhythm breaking, green eyes noticing the blur of purple that dashed in synchronisation a few yards away from them. “Hey, aren’t those Shiratorizawa jerseys?”

Oikawa’s head immediately snapped towards the direction in which Iwaizumi was pointing, eyes narrowing into slits as he stared his prey down. Iwaizumi sighed as Oikawa drew to a stop, hazel irises sparkling with intense curiosity. Immediately, those brown eyes were on his emerald ones, and Iwaizumi found himself shaking his head furiously, already suspecting what the impending question was.

“Please, Iwa- _chan_! If they’re here, that means their training camp has got to be somewhere close,” Oikawa reasoned, still glaring at a silhouette in the distance; Iwaizumi couldn’t think of anyone else to whom it could belong to except Ushijima Wakatoshi. “We need to find out how they train.”

“Why?”

“Because! Ushiwaka- _chan_ is always telling me to go to Shiratorizawa,” he mumbled back, frowning. “What’s so great about their school anyway?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? I care more about winning this stupid race you got us into. We can still probably beat Hanamaki and Matsukawa if we pick up our pace to make up for the time you spent staring at Ushijima.”

“I can’t help it!” Oikawa whined. “He’s just so _annoying_.”

“Great, now that you know how I feel about you, we should move on.”

“Iwa- _chan_ ,” Oikawa began, and Iwaizumi never regretted anything more than turning back to face his best friend. Oikawa’s lips were already forming a pout, but his caramel eyes were wide and big and Iwaizumi’s heart started beating so fast, fast, fast and he found himself sighing, running a hand through his jet-black hair, before giving in with a half-hearted, “ _Fine_.”

Oikawa lit up like a christmas tree. “We won’t take long. I promise.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi replied monotonously, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “No more than five minutes.”

“Yep! No more than five minutes!”

They spent twenty minutes instead, stalking their rivals as they jogged in what Iwaizumi was sure were just circles before Ushijima called quits, ordering the team to head back to the inn—wherever that was. Oikawa frowned as he slid to the ground, the shade from the tree under which they sat not providing much shelter from the blazing heat. He rested his head against the palm of his hand, idly following Shiratorizawa’s retreating figures with his eyes.

“I thought they’d be doing something extravagant,” Oikawa mumbled, sounding bored. “They’re doing exactly what we’re doing.”

Iwaizumi stood. “Great. Mystery solved. Let’s go, Assikawa.”

“There _has_ to be something more.”

He groaned. “Oikawa, if you don’t get up right now, I’m leaving you.”

“Iwa- _chan_ , we’re a good team, right?”

“Yes. Now come on.”

Oikawa frowned. “Then how are _they_ better?”

Iwaizumi paused, frowning. Oikawa had a valid question. If they were doing _exactly_ what Shiratorizawa was doing, how was it possible that they were behind? His fists clenched unknowingly, and he found himself loathing Ushijima the way Oikawa often did; perhaps he did understand the aggravating sensation of inferiority that Oikawa felt whenever he looked at the indigo ace or the genius setter.

Oikawa’s eyes studied his friend’s expression carefully, before he slowly rose to his full height once more. “Come on, Iwa- _chan_. We should probably get going.”

Iwaizumi nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

A hand landed softly on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Oikawa’s brown eyes gleaming, a determined smile beaming across his face. The grip his captain held on his shoulder tightened, and he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling the suffocating frustration of being _menial_. “We’ll beat them tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep!” Oikawa grinned. “We’ll tell Irihata- _san_ about Shiratorizawa and get him to schedule a practice match.” He held out his fist, a small smile on his face. “Let’s win tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but grin back. “First, you have to beat me.”

“Huh?”

“Race you!” And he was running, and Oikawa was running, and they laughed, their legs remembering their own races and that one starry night when they saw the whole wide world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghhh first time posting a full-fledge story here and I'm already a nervous wreck. I really do hate intros because they're always so hard to write, like, it took me four tries just to get it right, and even then I'm not completely satisfied with this? I feel like my writing could be way better, but the scenario and situations are bring the best out of it. Hopefully the rest of the story would be much more beautiful :D
> 
> Quick shoutout to my friends who beta-ed this for me! They're not on AO3 but they're darlings and angels and I probably would've spent another three years trying to write this chapter if it weren't for them lol.
> 
> There will be three parts to this story, each five chapters long. The title of each part shall be revealed at the end of every fifth chapter to avoid, you know, spoilers. Anyway, I hope it was an okay chapter?


	2. part one; chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you cooking?”
> 
> He almost jumped out of his skin. Familiar velvet tresses tickled the corner of his ears as a sharp chin and a strong jaw made itself at home on his shoulder. Hazel eyes gazed endearingly at the hands that carved potatoes into dices, focus and curiosity sparkling in never-ending hues. The smell of vanilla intoxicated his nostrils; he quickly pushed the brunet away before he did something animalistic.

**two**

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Iwaizumi stared at the rose apron in Hanamaki’s hand, scowling deeper when he noticed the lace bordering the edges of the satin silk. “You can’t let me do this.”

Hanamaki smirked, pushing the soft material into the ace’s hands. “Rules are rules, Iwaizumi. Be a man of your word.”

“Fuck you, Hanamaki,” he growled, and the wing spiker just howled in laughter, grabbing his cell phone and snapping a quick picture of Iwaizumi, who was half-heartedly taking off his shirt. The blond smirked, obviously satisfied, running a hand through his strawberry hair. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, slipping on the apron with a quick flourish, tying the strings behind his back. “Oi, what am I even cooking?”

“Curry,” was the curt reply, and the green-eyed boy sighed while Hanamaki fiddled with his phone, taking another quick picture of Iwaizumi, this time in his lovely pink attire. “Well then, that’s all the blackmail material I need.”

Iwaizumi grunted. “I’m deleting them later.”

“No can do, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki teased, locking his phone and tucking it away. “You wouldn’t want me to send those pictures to Oikawa.”

Immediately, his cheeks burned in fusion, and he turned away, fingers quickly fidgeting with the multitude of ingredients on the table as he began to cut them. He couldn’t let Oikawa get his hands on that picture; the idiot would probably say something along the lines of, “Cute,” and he would be a blushing mess, and then he would be at the mercy of Oikawa’s torturous schemes because he’d be too weak to fight that adorable smile, and that adorable face, and those adorable eyes—

“What are you cooking?”

He almost jumped out of his skin. Familiar velvet tresses tickled the corner of his ears as a sharp chin and a strong jaw made itself at home on his shoulder. Hazel eyes gazed endearingly at the hands that carved potatoes into dices, focus and curiosity sparkling in never-ending hues. The smell of vanilla intoxicated his nostrils; he quickly pushed the brunet away before he did something animalistic.

“Fucking hell, Assikawa, you almost made me cut my own finger—” He turned around, the glare on his face already intensifying a thousand degrees when he noticed the smock the setter had on; instead of a rosy pink, it was coral, but the designs were all the same; in fact, it looked like the twin of the apron he had on. Iwaizumi’s fury increased; Hanamaki was _beyond_ dead.

“Sorry, sorry,” Oikawa replied, a laugh dangling on his lips, though Iwaizumi could read the worry between his friend’s brow. Oikawa’s hands, which were covered in bandages, slowly peeled Iwaizumi’s stellar grip on the kitchen knife, and curled his fingers around them. “Why don’t I do the cutting instead? You can start on the rice so that I won’t mess it up.”

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa before sighing, turning around with his face in deep red. Even though his friend’s torso was covered well, he could still fill in the holes in the image with his ever-so-accurate memory of Oikawa’s abdomen and the etches where all his muscles would be. He turned towards the stove, frustration building in him. What would it take for him to at _least_ gain some sanity?

“Don’t mess that up,” he called out lamely, to which Oikawa responded with a pleasant, “Okay!” Iwaizumi smiled slowly, quickly washing the rice while watching Oikawa’s concentrated face from the corner of his eye, admitting that _maybe_ Oikawa was a little bit cute.

Cooking with the captain turned out to be less hectic than Iwaizumi had initially perceived it to be, if he would ignore the moments when he would get flustered and Oikawa would get flustered and the two of them were flustered together. The curry, however, came out a little salty due to Iwaizumi’s personal preferences. _Better than making it sweet_ , he silently thought as he glanced at the setter who was frantically searching for some sugar, which Iwaizumi hid in the pocket of his apron.

“Shittykawa,” he called, and Oikawa looked up from his search, cheeks puffed out in childish frustration. “Are you eating or not?” He nodded at the pot on the stove.

Oikawa shook his head furiously. “I’m not eating that! It’s so salty and gross!”

Iwaizumi frowned. “Oi, are you dissing my cooking?”

“Yes, because Iwa- _chan_ can’t cook.”

“It’s only a _little_ salty, you asshole.”

“It tastes like the fucking ocean!”

He glared. “Fine. I’ll add more chili to the curry to drown out the salt.”

“But that’ll make it spicier! Some of us can’t handle too much spice. We should make it sweeter.”

A harsher glare. “We are _not_ putting sugar in it.”

Oikawa crossed his arms. “Yes, we are. I know you have the sugar, Iwa- _chan_.”

“Who the fuck puts sugar in curry? No.”

“Iwa- _chan_!” Oikawa grunted in frustration. “Give me the sugar!”

“Hell, no!” Suddenly, he was running again, and he was cursing his damn mind away because his thighs hurt and his calves hurt and his soles hurt and he wanted to kill Oikawa for making him do _thrice_ the exercise than initially planned. He burst into the dining room where everyone was seated, the steaming hot pot burning his hands. His breath was short when he arrived, suddenly feeling subconscious about his lack of clothing as all eyes fell on him. His ears turned red. “Food’s ready!”

His shirtless self was quickly ignored as plates were quickly filled with rice and curry. With his arms free of the searing container, he moved aside to grab his shirt, which Hanamaki had apparently stolen while he was busy flushing at the thought of Oikawa possessing a picture of him half-naked in nothing but pants and an apron. He slipped the shirt on, feeling more secure. He was just about to join the others when Oikawa entered the scene, eyes gawking at his teammates who were currently stuffing themselves with Iwaizumi’s salty curry.

Oikawa frowned, taking a seat next to Matsukawa, not even bothering to take the apron off and slip on his shirt. Iwaizumi fought the urge to beat him up for making his heart flutter in the most ridiculous way, or at least the urge to do some things he wasn’t sure Oikawa would be 100 percent okay with. He glanced up at his best friend, the echoes of various girls in his mind. Oikawa _had_ dated a girl before, so the idea of him being straight wouldn’t be so surprising. Rather, it would be the most logical assumption. Iwaizumi stared at the rice on his plate. If he liked Oikawa, what did that make _him_?

“How are you eating that, Mattsun?” Oikawa asked as he grabbed some rice, half-heartedly praying, “Thanks for the food!”

Matsukawa scooped up a spoonful of the meal, shoving potatoes and meat and rice down into his mouth. He swallowed rapidly, as though he hadn’t chewed through the food, reaching over for the glass of water in front of him with tired hands. “It’s good.”

Iwaizumi smirked slightly, digging into his own platter satisfactorily. “I can cook, unlike some others.”

“It’s a little salty than what I’m used to,” Matsukawa added, and Oikawa turned to stick his tongue out at the ace, who rolled his eyes and stole a piece of meat off the setter’s plate. “But it still tastes really good. You’re not too bad of a cook, Iwaizumi.”

“Thanks. Oikawa wanted to add sugar.”

Hanamaki choked on his food. “ _Sugar_ , Oikawa? The hell is wrong with you?”

Oikawa pouted. “I wanted to make it sweeter.”

“That’s why you put honey in it, dumbass,” Matsukawa pointed out, handing Oikawa a bottle of thick, yellow goo. Oikawa brightened and grabbed at it impatiently, dunking globs of sweetness into his curry and rice. Matsukawa grimaced. “Though I think you’re supposed to add while you’re cooking.”

The captain merely shrugged, taking a huge bite, his face lighting up at the flavour. Iwaizumi smiled at the sight.

A cough interrupted the guffaws that echoed throughout the room, suddenly drawing their attention to the man at the end, a patient smile on his face. He stood, empty plate aside as the younger coach gathered the papers around him, statistics and plans waiting to be read. “Today was just the tip of the iceberg,” Irihata announced, and a low murmur spread across the tables. The head coach merely smiled, grinning in a way that caused Iwaizumi to dread what was to come. “Tomorrow, intense training will begin. You will be running, you will be spiking, you will be serving on hours end. You will be tested to measure your performance. Those who do not pass will practice more.”

The room was silent as the coach went on, filling the players in on the grueling days ahead. Iwaizumi’s eyes flitted across to Oikawa, whose stare was zeroed in on Irihata’s unwavering confidence. The ace leaned back, staring at the plate across of him. His mind wandered back to the jogging Shiratorizawa students, how they had finally seen the lack of secrets behind their training regime, how they found out there was no difference in Seijou’s practice and Shiratorizawa’s. He felt his fists clench in frustration, Oikawa’s question a reverberation in the corners of his thoughts. _Then how are_ they _better?_

“Coach,” he called, and suddenly all eyes were on him, waiting to see what the ace had to say. He could feel Oikawa’s stare fall on his body, and he met Oikawa’s golden eyes, the setter nodding as he read Iwaizumi’s thoughts. Iwaizumi stood then, turning to face Irihata with determined eyes, and bowed sincerely. “Please allow us to have a practice match against Shiratorizawa.”

The dining room exploded into hushed whispers, the name of the infamous academy vibrating against the wooden walls. Iwaizumi kept his gaze on the head coach; he knew Oikawa was doing the same. Irihata merely glanced at Iwaizumi kindly, looking between him and the sepia boy. “That would only be possible if Shiratorizawa is currently in the area,” the man said coolly, waiting for a solution from the childhood duo.

Oikawa rose then, eyes sharp, the way they would appear just before a match. “Iwa- _chan_ and I spotted them while we were jogging,” he declared, and the room stood still. “Irihata- _san_ , please negotiate with their coach and let us hold the practice match.”

Murmurs escaped between the other players.

“A practice match would be beneficial for us,” Irihata agreed, looking down at the seated Mizoguchi, who nodded in agreement. “Especially with such a strong rival as Shiratorizawa.”

Iwaizumi held his breath.

“However,” continued the younger coach, “even though we agree with this, it’s not guaranteed that it will happen. Washijou- _san_ can be hard to negotiate with, especially since Miyagi high schools can no longer challenge Shiratorizawa.”

“But,” Oikawa interjected, and Iwaizumi shot him a look to tell him he was going out of line, “please find a way to make it happen. Iwa- _chan_ and I... we can’t stand things the way they are.”

Irihata studied them momentarily, absorbing the looks on their face. Slowly, another smile crept on his face, as though he read their thoughts, their frustration, their anger at not being able to overcome the strongest team. “Well, if that’s the case, Mizoguchi and I will try our best to set up a practice match. Oikawa, if there is anything else you’d like to add to the meeting...”

Oikawa glanced at Iwaizumi who shook his head. Requesting the challenge was all they need. The captain smiled back in his usual manner, lifting his hands in his infamous V. “Nope! Meeting adjourned!”

##  ****

_“Iwa-_ chan _, hurry! You can see the entire city from here!”_

_His fingers curl around the branch above him, pulling him another step closer to the golden boy whose face seemed to glitter like the stars. He felt his heartbeat quicken and his breathing race, and he swallowed the calamity of emotions that burned in his lungs, urgently trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. Why was he feeling like this? Why was he so... agitated?_

_His arms tensed as he pulled himself upwards, muscles aching from the stretch. He groaned in pain—how long had this lasted? He didn’t remember it hurting this much the last time he climbed; had he scaled up the tree too often? Had he finally reached his limit?_

_He looked up, still dangling from where he hung, the dull pain still twisting on the inside of his bicep. He felt as though the ache had gone for hours. Was he finally done climbing? Will he fall? He blinked, staring at the ground below. It seemed so... unreal. Like all of this was a distant memory. Did that mean this was a dream? That the ache isn’t real?_

_Then all of a sudden it felt as though a million knives were stabbing him, and he screamed in pain, and Oikawa’s sparkling face was the last thing he saw before the whole world went black._

##  ****

Iwaizumi woke up in cold sweat, sensing such raw agony jolt through his body as every part of his body burst into flames. He gritted his teeth, his molars grinding against each other misery. He bit his bottom lip to keep himself from muttering a string of curses; he didn’t want to wake his sleeping teammates.

 _Muscle rub,_ he decided. _I need to get the muscle rub._

He crept over Oikawa’s sleeping body, watching as his chest rose and fell steadily. Satisfied with his observation, he finally stepped over the boy, his footsteps leaving no trace of an echo or a sound. But he felt the body beneath him stir nevertheless, Oikawa’s eyes fluttering open as a tired yawn escaped his body, his gaze lazily riveting.

“Iwa- _chan_?” he whispered, and Iwaizumi froze, trying to ignore the needles that seemed to pierce past his skin. “Is that you?”

He released the bite he had on his bottom lip; he tasted copper. “Y-Yeah.”

Oikawa started to sit up, rubbing his drowsy eyes. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi was biting his lip again, struggling to listen to what his friend was saying. Squinting through the darkness, he made out the concern on the brunet’s face and forced a nod, fingers quickly rubbing circles on his knees and elbows—anywhere he could imagine. _Muscle rub_ , he desperately thought, and the pain intensified, and he knew he had to go despite the uneasiness in his friend’s hesitant gaze.

“Bathroom,” he finally forced out, hoping his voice didn’t give any indication of his discomfort.

Oikawa studied him for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I don’t need—” He paused, closing his eyes as nausea hit him. _No_ , he thought, _not now. Do not let the migraine hit_ now _out of all times_.

“Iwa- _chan_?”

“...Migraine,” he finally choked out, and Oikawa was on his feet, clumsily walking through a sea of unconscious bodies, eyes searching for Iwaizumi’s bag through the darkness.

“You go to the bathroom,” Oikawa whispered back, his hand grazing the wall for guidance. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen with the ibuprofen.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Thanks.”

He made it to the bathroom, feeling the blades jab at him once more. He hissed, his left hand rubbing his knees more intensely, his right searching through the shelves on the wall for the familiar ointment they always carried in case of muscle pulls. He snatched it out, slathering the cream onto his elbows and knees; it was hot against his skin, but the stabbing did not stop.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

He pushed himself away as he felt his migraine throb, remembering how Oikawa had promised to meet him with the painkillers in the kitchen. Managing somehow, he made his way down the hall and retraced himself to the cooking area, where he found Oikawa standing over a saucepan of boiling water, dripping a drop of a strong-smelling substance into the liquid every once in awhile.

Iwaizumi pushed his way to the counter, and leaned against it. “What the hell are you doing?”

Oikawa blinked, turning to the ace with a tired smile. “You have a headache, right? My mom used to boil water with lavender oil in it so the scent would soothe my headaches.” He dropped a few more drops of the oil into the water, turning the flame to low before handing Iwaizumi a pill and a cup of water. “Here.”

Iwaizumi took it without further question, and gulped down the medicine, inhaling the water gravely. He set the glass down, wincing at the small motion he had to undertake. He silently cursed again. If this lasted any longer, how would he be able to prepare for the practice match?

“Iwa- _chan_?”

He squeezed his eyes open, which he didn’t know he closed, blinking at the harsh light that danced from the kitchen ceiling. “Sorry,” he groaned, feeling his knees buckle. “I—I need to sit down.”

Oikawa wrapped his arm around his waist as Iwaizumi gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the agonizing blaze increase. They slowly made their way to the dining room, where the remnants of the night’s chatters still lingered. Oikawa helped him into the nearest seat, and Iwaizumi rested his head on the table, feeling the painkiller kick in, his migraine starting to dissipate.

“Damn it, my muscles are aching,” he growled, and Oikawa frowned, turning to leave.

“I’ll get the muscle rub.”

“No,” Iwaizumi mumbled, sighing. “I’ve already tried that. It should go away soon... hopefully.”

Oikawa sat down. “How’s the migraine?”

“It’s dull now. I can barely feel it. I just want to go to sleep.”

Oikawa hummed. “How about I bring the lavender pot over? I don’t know how much it’ll help, but it might get you to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi mumbled. “Yeah, please do that.”

He heard the chair rub against the floor, and Oikawa’s footsteps disappeared, only to return moments later. Iwaizumi looked up and saw the pot in his hand, which he placed above a cloth on the table, the sweet aroma of lavender quickly sifting through the air. He felt his best friend scoot his chair closer to him, an arm quickly wrapping itself around his shoulders as Oikawa’s head dipped into the crook between Iwaizumi’s neck and shoulder.

“Wake me up if it gets worse, okay?” he mumbled, and Iwaizumi hummed back, watching as his friend fell asleep in no time. A few moments later he yawned, the scent of the lavender kicking in, eyes drooping despite the torture that raged within his body. And he allowed his head to fall on Oikawa’s, letting his eyes shut close for the night.

Even though he could hear his best friend’s calming heartbeat and smell his vanilla scent, Iwaizumi couldn’t make himself fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually very satisfied with this chapter; it feels more natural, and it feels like the way I usually write. I don't really know if there's a difference between the writing in this chapter than the last, but I can only hope there is because the last chapter feels off, at least to me.
> 
> Also, I want to reiterate what I said (or will say, depending on when you read this because I have yet to add it) what I said at the beginning of the last yet: the plot, the simple, non-detailed breakdown of the plot (such as beginning, climax, and conclusion) is my sister's. She is responsible for all the fluff and stuff that await you. I am only responsible for figuring out the details of the big picture she painted.
> 
> I am honestly enjoying this story so much. Let's hope I can figure out the plot of the next part ASAP because I only have this part's figured out.
> 
> EDIT: There's something weird with this story, my notes are doubling all in the previous chapter and chapter one's note is repeated here as well does anyone know what's going on is this supposed to happen? is this normal? h e l p.

**Author's Note:**

> Arghhh first time posting a full-fledge story here and I'm already a nervous wreck. I really do hate intros because they're always so hard to write, like, it took me four tries just to get it right, and even then I'm not completely satisfied with this? I feel like my writing could be way better, but the scenario and situations are bring the best out of it. Hopefully the rest of the story would be much more beautiful :D
> 
> Quick shoutout to my friends who beta-ed this for me! They're not on AO3 but they're darlings and angels and I probably would've spent another three years trying to write this chapter if it weren't for them lol.
> 
> There will be three parts to this story, each five chapters long. The title of each part shall be revealed at the end of every fifth chapter to avoid, you know, spoilers. Anyway, I hope it was an okay chapter?


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